DISCLAIMER: Yesterday, when I originally posted this story — from the pages of my memories, and my drawings, from some 30-something years of keeping to myself. Well, I contacted Mr. Patz so that if any of the information I picked up years ago would be of interest or ring some sort of bell; I just wanted him to know. This was not wise. I offended him. And I, in no way, wish to add to the pain of the Patz family. They have been living with this tragedy for 30-something years.

Thus, first, my public apology for contacting Mr. Patz. I really should have left him to his privacy. And apologies for anything I published or said that has and/or will offend you.

Mr. Patz (Stan) contacted me, same day, and said he preferred I take down the whole article; and corrected me on information (from my cloudy memory) which I quoted incorrectly.

I wrote him back to let him know, I’d like to keep the article posted and remove the parts that offended him most — the YouTube links bothered him [and I understand why — they have sales ads] and me misquoting him, also understandable.

Mr. Patz informed me there has never been a lead, reference or even a thought of Etan being in Syracuse, NY. So, there you have it — it is just my dreams, impressions that picked up Syracuse.

As a psychic, this case, which happened when I was just a teen [living my high school life far away – Phoenix, AZ], really developed my psychic crime-solving gift. I have only told a few friends about my early images of how Etan Patz was killed, his age at his death and where his body might be.

In those years, I had never been in New York City – my first time would be 1984 – this case moved me. Soon after it was public, I had dreams of being in a car, with other children, on the West Side Highway [at that time I didn’t know it was the West Side Highway, either]. I just dreamt of being on a semi-circular roadway looking through a window at a big city…surrounded by water and bridges. Although, I am not sure it is related to Etan Patz.

One night, all those years ago around 1981 (the year I graduating high school), I had a dream [this was also more recognition of my medium gifts]:

In my dream, I found myself sitting on a ratty old couch in a messy old single room apartment. Sitting beside where about four to six children, boys and girls. When I “awoke” in this drab, dirty room I immediately stood up to face all these children – ages 6 to 12 – and asked them who they were and why they were here. All of them were very silent and had the large hungry eyes of starving children in Third World countries. Their clothes were tattered and their demeanor that of abused children – no tears, just large, sad eyes. Not one of them spoke.

I kept questioning, wondering why no one would answer me. Then, one of them, about 8-years-old, sitting between the other children was familiar to my eyes.

“You’re Etan Patz!”

The boy nodded that he was, indeed, Etan.

I looked at the other children and it came to me, “Oh my God, you’re all dead, aren’t you?”

The children nodded.

For whatever reason, they were unable to speak to me out loud. I found they could hear my questions in their mind and would answer with their yes and no head nods.

I looked at Etan and said, “This is where you all are? This apartment?”

Etan gave me the affirmative.

“Can you tell me where ‘this apartment’ is located?”

Etan stood up and walked to the front door. Right beside the door was a light switch. Etan pointed to it and it turned into a moving, virtual reality map – similar to today’s touch screen computers [this was 1981, though] – and I could see maps moving quickly until it landed on New York. Etan pointed at a name on the map. I expected New York City, but it was different.

Etan pointed harder at the name on the map, which I had trouble reading: I didn’t know New York names and places well, at that time, at least. I saw the word Sycamore. Etan disagreed with his head nod.

I asked him, “It sounds like Sycamore, right?”

He seemed disappointed, it was the only way I could read the word,at that time.

“Etan, is your body in this apartment? I want to tell your parents.”

Etan told me no . . . with his head. And again pointed on the light switch. The picture went from the map of this place I was calling Sycamore, NY – like a film. I saw two brick buildings, white, a few stories high, side by side, same size, same look. In front of it were some fields of grass/dirt and one tree [perhaps, a sycamore tree?].

Etan pointed to about the third story window, to show me where this apartment was from the outside of the building. Then, for where his body was, he pointed to the field area, very near the one tree.

I asked him how old he was when he was killed. He was 8-years-old, although he disappeared at age 6. I picked up more information telepathically from Etan and the other children.

The man who killed them lived in the building in which they were [in my dream]. Etan confirmed [in my dream]:

Etan was familiar with the man when he intercepted him in New York.

The man abused boys, mostly, yet would hurt girls, too.

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I promised to remember the information given when I woke up – I had realized it was a dream.

So, when I woke up, I asked Etan Patz to draw through my hands about all the information.

I have had these drawings for years and was always scared to share it with anyone:

I was a teenager and who would believe me

It would be awful if law enforcement dug up a campus and found nothing just based on my impressions

I would be accused of being an opportunist.

Yesterday, number three happened. Etan’s father thought I was just seeking instant fame and/or God knows what. I’m not, at least, not about this situation. If my impressions can find Etan Patz, fine. And if my impressions do lead to him, I don’t care if they ever say my name or not. As for money, I don’t ask for money for missing children cases; nevertheless, if a reward or business compensation [where businesses are involved] is offered, I would accept monetary compensation should my impressions directly lead to the recovery of a child and/or solving a crime.

>> Yes, I am in the Psychic/Medium business, as well. Since I cannot take on every case, I will help when and where I can [with missing children only]. As I did for the Maine Police Department in finding a missing child (deceased). My name was never mentioned, I never visited Maine or Canada (where I told them they’d find the missing child — and they did), and I have not received one bit of money from that case. <<

Still, this is NOT my goal or purpose in posting or sharing my findings [financial gain or fame — although, I am, with my blog, advertising my gifts for profit]. I am sharing these [drawing and insights] for FREE so a missing child can come home and/or a crime can be solved.

Thus, I kept them [the drawings, psychic impressions & dreams] all these years and now it’s time, with a place (my blog) for me to finally share them.

THE DRAWINGS: They are drawn from a child’s hand, Etan Patz, as I, basically, in 1981, channeled him to draw them for me. I have found, since I have actually helped in a couple of cases with the police in recent years, I can draw pictures based on what I pick up from dead children.

BACK TO THE STORY: Years later, when I moved to New York to attend college (1984) – I learned my mistake with Sycamore. Because I hadn’t heard of it, a friend whom I showed him the drawings, told me it is in Syracuse, NY.

The information from my friend:

It is the college campus and the buildings were part of the college there.

The room I described, he told me, was what the dorm rooms look like inside.

The building was where the staff would live.

The field has since been built-up and I didn’t hear of them finding bodies or remains.

Although, Etan told me he is buried near this building(s).

My friend told me that these buildings, the original college buildings, were torn down.

It wasn’t the case, though, in 1981, when I drew these pictures.

If these impressions and drawings help solve the crime, I would be glad to work, even anonymously, with anyone out there working on the case.

Coming up, in another blog postings, my drawings from the Jon Benet Ramsey case and the recent case of Lauren Spierer (which I should post next so they can, possibly, find her).

I did contact AMW.com and they informed me they do not take psychic impressions on cases.

Train tracks which bisect the city are two blocks from the dorms.

Even though this is a house, it is sort of how I saw the building(s) in my dream. This photograph and the above caption was taken in Syracuse, NY.

The other photo, from Syracuse, NY (near the dorms) is a pretty good image of the field I saw where the children are buried [should my dream have any truth in it]. I saw only one tree and remember, my dream took place in 1981.

UNFORGETTABLE:Angels, Punks& Raging Queens

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By Angela Theresa Egic

(my original title)

A few weeks ago, someone I used to call a friend, posted in a public forum that I, Angela Theresa “Curry’s Angel” Collins-Egic, am just “not that memorable”; also, I apparently “lack charisma” to boot.

Since I originally penned this article (last week) — a little glitch in my life [an abnormal mammogram and upcoming needle biopsy to see if its benign or malignant] has caused me to think about memory, being remembered, etc. Two and a half years shy of my half-century mark, I’m having the longevity conversation with myself . So, as I chronicle my life, up to now and hopefully well into the next fifty or so years.

The person who said this does need a little introduction, because to most of you, he’s not that memorable, I would think. To most of my readers, he’s unknown, in fact:

He was born Andrew Martin Arnold but solely uses the stage name of Andrew Martin now. It suits him well.

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When we met, back in 1985…I thought he was a 17-year-old girl. Andrew would tell you the same; that he looked like a 17-year-old girl.

For a few of those youthful years, Andrew did start wearing women’s clothing, taking my hand-me-downs, in fact; and marketed his transvestite image. He utilized my talents and Susie “Squeaky” Schwartzberg’s talent to do two cabaret acts at a venue called Jason’s Park Royal. The first one titled: THE LADY AND HIS MUSIC.

He wasMiss Andrew, in every sense of the word. A talented, off-the-wall and interesting young gay man.

To some degree, he and I were as close as any two friends could be. Andrew and I met at an 8th Street pizza joint called Bennie’s [worst pizza ever – yet we ate a slice every week]. The day I walked in there, across the street from 8thStreet Playhouse in NYC; on my way to see the NY showing of ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW: I met these two girls, [I thought]; when the very thin, flat-chested one told me her name was “Andrew”. I was a little taken aback. The shorter one, with a tomboyish charm [yet, was obviously female] was “Barbara”.

It didn’t take long to figure out that both Andrew and Barbara were talented, intelligent teens. In fact, wise beyond their years! I instantly adored them. Through them, I met some great people, many of whom are still friends today; including Barbara and Andrew. Except, the friendship with Andrew has ended a few times and we are, as of July 2011, not on good terms . . . which is what I’m writing about.

In 1985, though, Andrew, Barbara and I, and a few others became a gang of misfits, at a place where us misfits fit in. There was the “8th Street Gang [Cast]” and “us”. “Us” who wanted to be in the 8th Street cast—all of us talented enough, yet not popular enough – to Sal Piro, at least. Being that Sal is the President of the Official RHPS Fan Club and cast the floorshow (now called shadowcasts) back then. We were still misfits.

We showed up every week, though, at 8th Street Playhouse – Miss Andrew, Barbara Arnold, Susie “Squeaky” Schwartzberg, Phil Dejean, Shawn Rozsa, Mad Man Mike, Andy Grondahl, Hawkeye, A.J. and many more. Since Sal seemed to have blacklisted quite a few of us from being in the popular 8th Street cast…I found us another way!

I moved to Brooklyn and heard about a midnight showing of RHPS on Saturday midnight. When I heard the floorshow [shadowcast] was thrown out, I grabbed my mis-fitted friends and swooped in to have our own show. I wanted to have the best cast! A cast that would have people saying we were “as good as the 8th Street cast” or “better than”!

I just wanted Sal to see how talented we were and have him, finally, offer us a role in the big show in Manhattan; or acknowledge us, at the very least.

We put the show together, quickly. I had every intention of playing ‘Magenta’; no one wanted to play ‘Frank N. Furter’, oddly. Inspired by an 8th Street idol of mine, Julie Calabrese, I molded myself into ‘Frank N. Furter’. Oh yes, and my other idol, Dori Hartley. [She, Dori, had moved on with her life before I had arrived in New York, though].

Our (really, my) cast, The Low Down Cheap Little Punks, at Brooklyn’s Marboro Theater, became known as one the best casts in the East coast – comparable to Manhattan’s 8th Street Playhouse! At least, as far as I was concerned! Sal Piro eventually took most of my cast into his cast – so, that tells you something. Some of the top cast members of Sal’s 8th Street group, in 1986, got their start in MY CAST!

As time went on, around 1987, when I began working in a talent agency – we represented Sal Piro – Sal and I started a professional, respectful friendship: I’ve attended many Rocky Horror conventions where Sal and I had some great conversations. My favorite was a Las Vegas convention, in the 90s, when Sal introduced me as “one of the most dedicated” fans of RHPS.

Sal also put me in his 2nd RHPS book Creatures of the Night II;invited me to be part of the first television showing of RHPS at FX Studios [I went as Frank N. Furter, of course]; and Sal asked me take his RHPS items to an Albany, NY convention when he couldn’t attend.

In the early years, I was at every convention from the 10th Anniversary (Beacon Theater) – and where my original costume – “Curry’s Angel” brought me Good Morning America and newspaper reporters and photographer’s interviewing me about “who” I was.

Found out, later, one of the friends’ buzzing about me told the reporters that my real name was Angela Curry . . . and that I was Tim Curry’s real-life niece!!!

I hadn’t even met Tim Curry, at that point!

Nevertheless, the next morning, as my interview aired, millions of viewers thought I was, indeed, Tim Curry’s niece as the name ANGELA CURRY was emblazoned at the bottom part of the screen. Coincidentally, when I finally did met TC, it would be revealed how much I resembled his real-life niece. I believe she, Tim Curry’s real-life niece (he has three); one resembles me [I’m older, I believe]; she, my doppleganger Curry niece, has aged much better than me, though.

About three weeks ago – on the Facebook 8th Street Playhouse page – to be told by Miss Andrew that I am “not that memorable” and that I lack “charisma”, really got up my crawl!

We must also remember, after 1987, Andrew disappeared from the RHPS fan base and refused to be part of any of our conventions, get-togethers, etc. until about 2008 or 2009.

In short, while I was involved, actively from 1983 (AZ) to 1984-1987 (NY) and then from 1988-now at conventions, another stint as ‘Frank N. Furter’ in Arizona in the 90s, made a “rock-u-mentary (1990) w/the AZ group, talked to Tim Curry and had many conversations with Sal Piro, Patricia Quinn and Richard O’Brien and too many cast(s) – all the way to England – and had a RHPS newsletter – fans from as far as Italy and France writing me fan mail . . . Really?! Not memorable? No charisma? Me?

Are you talking to me, Andrew? Unmemorable, little ole me?

Andrew claims “more people” remember him from those days. I might agree with him about that, of course. My argument is NOT the numbers; it’s the words about a personality – no charisma, not very memorable. Are those words you say to a friend? A friend so instrumental in so many memories, my own and in his, and many others!

There are people from “those days” who approach me, remember me, actually . . . whom I cannot, for the life of me, remember at all. BUT, friend or foe, I would never be so rude to say to them: “you’re not very memorable” or “you must’ve lacked charisma”.

Hell, for all I know, they are very memorable and have tons of charisma – I just wasn’t lucky enough to see it and or get to know this great person at the time. My loss.

Which was my point with Andrew Martin, supposedly my friend … he went on to remind me and the group how “everyone remembers him” and “hardly anyone” remembers me. A snob! An ego-maniac.

A very insecure person, envious of my involvement and part of this history. Andrew missed the years between 1987-2007, when we had reunion’s, conventions and were interviewed by German, French and British TV shows and even American specials.

After I blocked him on Facebook – had unfriended him months ago when he posted some rude, jealous and snobby remark on my wall – I actually just feel sorry for him. He is, insecure. He is dysfunctional much more than most of us. I claim to have empathy.

Cabaret>>Click Here

Of course, without proper, professional diagnosis, I can say, from my experience (in life) – I find Andrew shows signs of classic Narcissist Personality Disorder. I had another friend with a professional diagnosis of the disorder – thus, I see the similar signs in Andrew.

This means, I really should be empathetic. Yet, I, too, have my ego and insecurities, as well. I guess we’re all a bit narcissist in the theatre business!

A recent scare, which I’m still dealing with calmly, made me think about . . . well, being remembered, etc. and how we are remembered.

I have no fear of death, itself, yet I don’t want to do it right now. I want to see one hundred years on this earth, I mean, if I’m capable and not crippled up, etc. Yet, as I have had friends pass on – far too many for someone my age – it makes me think about who will remember me? Who will share these memories with me, of me and our times in the 1980s?

with Susie "Squeaky"

If Andrew is right, and I’m not that memorable or charismatic — me being there was all, I don’t know, an illusion.

I thought I finally did fit in. I had found my people – the different, the misfits, the unusual – and now, maybe I am still an alien, the kid easiest to bully, the ugly one, the forgettable one.

Sure, I know it’s not true, really.

Andrew is trying to hurt me to make himself feel better – for his insecurities – yet, he succeeded. As really, no one even stood up for me!

I may understand why, though – Andrew will argue, filibuster – and would’ve pestered anyone who dares speak up for me. Because I spoke up for me and he went on and on until I ended it by blocking him! It just would’ve soothed my ego (of course, not my authentic self as “ego” is the false self) if someone had spoken up for me.

I guess we can say Rocky Horror Picture Show also attracts insecure people all around! Yikes!

Here’s my angelic story . . . besides the fact that my name is Angela. Angels, understandably, have been part of my life all my life.

At age ten: I saw an angel in our little church.

In the 80s: I found a place to fit in, at the midnight movie, Rocky Horror Picture Show — my obsession/love/lust for actor, Tim Curry, began and friends started calling me “Curry’s Angel“.

In the 90s: I began reading the Doreen Virtue books on angelology.

In the 2000s: Hay House Radio (http://www.HayHouseRadio.com) brought me closer to the best and greatest metaphysical authors. I had a phone conversation, during a radio broadcast, with Doreen Virtue. In 2005, through Conscious One, I had another chance to speak with Doreen Virtue.

September 27, 2005: Lancaster, PA.

My boyfriend and I were going through a very rough custody battle for his daughter. He was controlling and I knew I would, eventually, have to leave him. I was about to turn 42-years-old, and for some reason this bothered me more than other birthday’s. I felt old. I was depressed and was thinking about going back on medication.

The panic attacks were happened every half hour, my quality of life was not good, in that sense. I felt I couldn’t go on like this. I was reaching for help and had gotten into some of Doreen Virtue’s books and joined a program called HEALING WITH THE ANGELS through ConsciousOne.

It included a phone call, live with Doreen Virtue. I called and, understandably, Doreen loved my name. I always call myself,Angela and sometimes Ang. I do not like to be called Angie. Never have. I will answer to it;I don’t love it, though.

She vacuumed me and my boyfriend. She confirmed I had to get away from him, soon. And then, the words that truly gave me hope saved me, really and encouraged me to seek more help – through spirituality; and temporary medication in the form of beta blockers.

What she said, though, regarding my panic disorder was the true healing words I needed:

“The greater the fear, the greater the purpose.”Doreen sweetly said to me.

The words permeated my being. It felt right. I knew, without a doubt as a rush of spirit rose from my solar plexus to my head, these words were correct.

About two months ago: On Facebook, on the Doreen Virtue Fan Page site; Mishka Productions was offering a contest – to win a free workshop in my hometown, Phoenix, AZ. Technically, in Scottsdale, AZ [a close neighbor of Phoenix].I knew I had to enter. The contest was to write why you want to win the Angel Intensive Workshop. I wrote about the experience when I feel, via the healing words, Doreen Virtue saved my life in 2005.She and the angels, the vacuuming she gave me. I was very excited to finally meet her in person.

As I wrote my little short blurb, why I would like to win the workshop, I felt “I’m going to win this.”

Three weeks before the program, as the “tour season” was coming up – and my employer would soon be making a new schedule for tour guides. I had taken off the fall and winter, as usual. I had had a cathartic winter.Besides utilizing law of attraction, flowdreaming and other techniques – I was being a bit, and still have it somewhat (rains a lot in New York now); well, having symptoms of S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder).

I also knew a part of the depression was thinking about returning to being an NYC Tour Guide atop the double-decker, open-top busses.The last two springs and summers doing this job I had gone through sunburn (despite 45 SPF sun screen), several rough bouts of heat stroke (especially on busy days with four [4] tours in a row], bladder infections (never really enough time to take proper food or bathroom breaks) and getting soaked, head to toe and down through my underwear in rain storms when they hit suddenly.

My head and heart were, for months now, if not for over a year, saying “no more outdoor jobs”! At least, not outdoor jobs that keep me exposed to the elements on any sort of regular basis. Thus, right before I learned of my win, I put in my resignation from City Sights. I am still a card-carrying NYC Tour Guide, but no longer do I work for City Sights or any other tourism company.

Thus, I quit my job, knowing the Universe has a plan: In Law of Attraction, the Universe gives you signs on what action, called inspired action, to take to reach your dreams.

One week later, I see an email from Liz Dawn Donahue telling me to contact her immediately, regarding the Doreen Virtue Angel Intensive in Scottsdale, AZ.

I called immediately. I won!

There was a story, though, a very sad one. I was 2nd choice, last minute. The woman who won, and deservedly so, is going through chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. Due to where she is in her treatment, her doctor would not allow her to travel. So, Liz asked her to go through the entries herself, narrow it down to three and between the two they’d choose the winner.

I am blessed, they both chose me!!!

When Liz called, we discussed the details. I would have to be able to get myself to Arizona, though. For about ten seconds, I thought it wouldn’t happen, due to my current financial situation. Yet, I knew I was inspired to leave my job and the fact I won the workshop – I felt the Universe would provide me the means to get to the workshop.

Get this! I just won a FREE entry to this conference . . . !!! Now, I must get to Phoenix, AZ in time. And well, I need a little help for that. Thus, in the next couple of days, I need to come up with about $470 for the roundtrip airline ticket.

I do Intuitive/Psychic Readings and for $50.00 you get one-hour. I may have to give the reading after the conference, nevertheless, if you pay now and help me get to the conference you’ll get one of the best readings ever.

If you’d like to lend me the full amount or something towards it, that’s good too. I can receive gifts via PayPal (money) and/or if you want to cover it on your credit card (you can make the arrangements with the airline and I won’t need your credit card info.) — I will reimburse you when I can.

DISCLAIMER: This is my way to understand all the feelings I am feeling after hearing of the death of someone I personally knew; someone who died at the age of only 42-years-old. Someone I was estranged from for good solid reasons. I have forgiven her, in fact, I did many months ago (for her causing me humiliation and embarrassment). I did not wish for this.

Months ago, I ended a friendship, and blogged about it here.

Click on the photograph above to see the obituary.

Even though, I was not speaking to Jenee Bandler. I was saddened to hear of her early death. There was a time, not too long ago, I believe she considered me her best friend; or one of them.

Sadly, I found it difficult to consider her my best friend. Why? When Jenee informed me that “if you really loved me as a friend, Angela“, after one of my friends didn’t want to date her … Jenee informed me it was my “job” to end the friendship with this man. A man I had known for over fifteen years.

I don’t feel friends should dictate to whom I, or anyone else, is supposed to call a friend.

Jenee also would take it upon herself to tell me exactly how and why I owed her my loyalty, and should do for her or as she asked, because of the times she went out of her way for me. I thanked her for any and all favors she gave to me, I truly appreciated it and in return, in many cases, I did several favors for her, of course. She often reminded me, though, it seems, I still owed more to her.

Perhaps, it was, somewhere in her subconscious, she knew she didn’t have much time left here (?)

Our friendship began years ago in our hometown of Phoenix, AZ. As a teenager, I was involved in a group ran by Michael Lancy, through the Greater Phoenix Jewish Community Center. The group was a performing arts group called Centerstage.

Norm Bandler

The young girls, in the group, flocked to me, a teenage girl they looked up too. I was young, pretty, tall, talented, kind and popular. All these little girls thought of me, I am sure, as a big sister. Jenee Bandler was one of them.

I came back a couple of years later, after I graduated from high school. Mike Lancy had a “touring” group, two of them — Centerstage West (beginning acting students) and Centerstage USA (advanced). I auditioned and was placed in Centerstage USA; I was a honor drama student in high school. Jenee was there, now 14-years-old or maybe 13-years-old. We were all teens (I was 18-years-old) and we all had our little clicks. Jenee was in group of younger teens who came from the wealthier Jewish family’s of Scottsdale and Phoenix, AZ. I was not in this group as I was a bit older and from a middle-class background.

Jenee was friendliest of that particular click. She had another typical trait of her age, too — she was boy crazy! In fact, I was shocked that some of the girls, aged 12 (maybe even younger) to 17 were talking about their sexual exploits so openly. Shook me up as I, just 18 and still a virgin, felt they were much too young to be sexually active, or so verbal about “doing it“.

Centerstagers 1982

I had a boyfriend, ever since I was 16-years-old and we were still dating, at this time. But, at Centerstage I formed a crush on a younger man–a rather effeminate 16-year-old I’ll call M.E.

Suddenly, as I flirted and fantasized about M.E., apparently, Jenee was also interested in him. It seemed to me, just as M.E. & I started having conversations and were getting along, Jenee jumped in and started her campaign to win his heart. I felt she was competing with me . . . on purpose.

In fact, it often seemed the click, all of them, wanted to compete with me. It irked me. They [the group] seemed angry when I was given a solo, or the girls would interrupt my conversations bringing attention to themselves. Jenee particularly did this when I was talking with M.E.

This was my “friendship” with Jenee for two summers in the 1980s. She ended up dating M.E., and bragging to me all about it.Thus, the rest of the summer (on tour); Jenee and I never really fought, but were certainly made quips — both of us guilty — about or toward one another. Then, tour was over and I did not see her until the next summer, when I did Centerstage USA tour again. The 2nd year, if M.E. and Jenee were dating, it was hard for me to tell. Jenee and I talked briefly, on occasion, yet, I don’t remember any particularly rude or even in-depth personal conversations between us. We weren’t enemies, nor particularly close; we were civil, accepting and decent.

Autographs_Centerstagers

Her brother, Norm Bandler, on the other hand, aged about 11, acted like he had a huge crush on me . . . me, the older woman! It was so cute. Norm was a very sweet little boy and followed me around a lot on that tour. He was highly intelligent, we both were big fans of the tv series “Mork & Mindy”. I felt like a teacher to Norm. He asked me lots of questions about acting, tv and films — we talked for hours. Norm was wise way beyond his years.

Then, summer was over, 2nd year in a row. I didn’t see, nor speak to Jenee again until about two years or so later. Not for any particular reason, bad or good. I was to never see Norm again, sadly.

My mother was doing a production of “The Sound of Music” at a new theatre called Shadow Rock; about two or so years after my Centerstage experiences. Cast beside my mother, as a nun at the Abbey, Jenee Bandler!

Picking up my mother at a rehearsal one evening, Jenee and I got to talking, catching up. She was still dating M.E. and seemed happy. It was a good conversation, and we parted company on a friendly manner.I believe, by this time, I had preparing to move to New York (or already had) and was involved with Nick Atonna. I would say this was 1984.I know I never saw the production of “The Sound of Music” with my mother and Jenee — either 1) because I wasn’t in town when it went up or 2) or I was sick or 3) doing another production [maybe].

In 1989 ish, I returned to Phoenix, AZ [from New York –1984-1988]. I was in Phoenix, AZ for a few years this 2nd time around. While doing a production of Good Clean Fun with a former Centerstager, Heather Brody (the Producer); Jenee stopped by a rehearsal, briefly, one day with her boyfriend (not M.E.). We only had a quick conversation and she said something about M.E. being a jerk and, obviously, she had moved on.

Then, around 1998 ish, I was living in Burbank, CA; I brought a Richard Simmon’s video and while doing ‘Disco Sweat’, at the end, one of his biggest stars, on the video, was a familiar face, Jenee Bandler!!! I attempted track her, found an address and phone in Burbank — but she had moved.

Jump to 2007, either Jenee found me or I found her on facebook: We were both now living in New York. She asked me to take some photographs of her . . . as she wanted to go back into acting — from years of pursuing and becoming a Clinical Psychologist. She was married and updated me on Norm — he was living in Los Angeles, CA, living his dreams.

The one thing I remembered about Jenee, from the Centerstage days, was her incredible singing voice — at age 14, it was remarkable! Our re-acquainting, all these years later, I found Jenee more mature, sweet and funny.

Tragedy struck soon after . . . before I could get a phone call from Norm and re-acquaint with the really cool young man from so many years ago. Norm died in a tragic accident. Jenee was understandably devastated. It happened the very day she was to come be in a production at the theatre I was active in, Manhattan Theatre Source.

After this, I watched Jenee go from a married woman, slightly overweight and mature to a devastated, partying woman with an ending marriage and unhealthy habits increasing. Jenee was quite overweight when we re-acquainted, yet, after her brother’s death, and her divorce, she gained more weight.

It must’ve been a few months after Norm passed on when Jenee began doing plays at Manhattan Theatre Source (MTS). She was immediately infatuated with my friend, a regular at MTS. As she became involved with MTS, Jenee’s personality came out.

Jenee Bandler was fun, loud, theatrical and opinionated! It was fun, at times, even if a bit overwhelming. I mean, my personality is big, too — Jenee could make me look shy! LOL!

What started to be a problem, though, was her psychology degree. I noted, silently, her need to psycho-analyze people, particularly J.A. I always secretly hoped she would not and tried to avoid being analyzed by her.

In March 2008, I left New York and went to Los Angeles, CA. My return in November 2008 left me homeless, in NY. Jenee, luckily, offered me a couple of weeks at her apartment in the Bronx, NY. While staying there, we got along pretty well, considering. Nevertheless, she became angry with me and accused me of lying when, while sleeping on her couch, I was eaten up by fleas (my ankles) and/or bed bugs. I went to a drug store and bought some spray to kill fleas and doused the couch and my suitcases. The professional opinion was the fleas came from the couch.

My only other issues, staying with Jenee, was housekeeping (she doesn’t do any) and her smoking at night. The cigarettes bothered me more than anything.

She did give me a “temporary” place to stay, though, and I did find other accommodations, as agreed, two weeks later.

I’m opinionated, too — and people who think they know everything are very annoying to those of us who do [know everything]! Ever since we were teens, even if we weren’t close, I knew, with Jenee, I must walk a bit on eggshells. She was over-emotional, took too much personally and overbearing with her diagnosis.

Yes, she could be fun, very funny and certainly was highly intelligent . . . and a good actor! Thus, she had skills to manipulate with her knowledge and acting talents. Sometimes these combos were lethal. Jenee’s feelings were easily hurt and her anger explosive. No one could predict what would trigger it, either.

One morning, early, Jenee phoned J.A. and woke him up. He was disturbed and read Jenee the riot act. She was offended greatly at his anger and him chastising her for “calling at an ungodly hour”. This rift between J.A. and Jenee went on for months, or a year . . . I lost track. Anyway, months later, J.A. is very humorous, tells lots of jokes. Well, Jenee is cast in a short play that J.A. wrote . . . during a rehearsal, J.A. make a JOKE to Jenee about “call at a decent hour”. She hit the ceiling.

So, that evening, during the performance, because J.A. didn’t apologize [for the joke] to Jenee. Jenee told her scene partner she was “not performing” J.A.’s play.Well, that would leave her scene partner no performance — and the girl’s parents were in the audience. As many of us tried to convince the angry Jenee to “do the show” and deal with J.A. later, she was telling us she didn’t care about anything and J.A. deserved it. Yet, we couldn’t convince her that she was hurting her scene partner, an innocent in this. Luckily, the scene partner talked Jenee into doing the show after lots of tears [the scene partner] and begging.

Jenee always yelled about acting professional, and this action proved to me and others . . . it didn’t mean her. As it was unprofessional to do that another actor just because someone made a sarcastic remark to her! Silently, I vowed, I would never work with Jenee again. And I am sure many of the other actors and directors there felt the same sentiment.

I lied, though . . . a couple of years later. I ended up being cast beside her in another MTS Spontaneous Combustion production. Admittedly, though, it went very well. In June 2010, though, our last time working together as the friendship ended in July 2010. I invited Jenee to do a reading of my play for the MTS Source Writers group. The day before the reading, she phoned me and chastised me for not giving her the lead and/or not writing the play about plus-sized women. Well, I wrote this play in the 90s and I only called her to give her something to do in the acting world.

Her reading, of the small role, was good, though. Jenee, at the time, though, was limping and telling me she “fell again” and had injured her leg or hip. It was about the 3rd or 4th time she had “fallen” and been “injured” that year alone. I also know she was treated for some sort of ‘brain bleed’ awhile back. Nevertheless, considering her weight and these sort of injuries, I was doubting if her health was good and/or being monitored.

Then, Jenee, after this time, was getting very, very dependent on me. She would call me and ask me to sign her up for auditions, or find her auditions, etc. . . making me her agent, suddenly. Although, I never applied for this job.

She told me I owed her for making her come out, injured, to do my reading. Although, I told her to not come if she was hurt. I owed her for all the times she “did” for me; I owed her because I stayed in a friendship with J.A., against her will and thus I betrayed my friendship for her.

The last time I spoke to her, in person, was when I ended the friendship.

On or around the first week in January 2011, I received a strange text from Jenee — having not spoken to her since July 2010. It read: I love you and miss you. I wish you would let me help you through this. Happy New Year 2011.

It angered me all over again. My decision(s), back in July 2010, to protect my psyche — a happy and calm as can be lifestyle [as I am on medication for high blood pressure] was to 1) remove negative people from life [namely: Jenee], 2) to never contact Jenee again until she admitted she was “very wrong” to contact 911 over an argument — knowing full well I was NOT suicidal and 3) to never work with her again. If I had seen her in person, I would’ve been civil.

Even after the July incident, Jenee tried to tell me she was “right” and that “if anything happened” to me that she’d be upset [even though there was nothing wrong with me and SHE KNEW IT]. It was all about her being a hero, etc. Thus, her text was, perhaps, her crying out for help: ” I wish you would let me help you through this.”

We had no contact since July 2010, now January 2011, her blocked from my accounts — I thought, what in the world is she texting about?! My life is going great — Jenee helping me through things would mean me being locked up in a mental institution, apparently. Please! I deleted it. Never heard from her again.

In January 2011, though, there was mention of her name again. A playwright I know was doing a reading of her new play — she asked J.A. and I to be in the reading. She also asked him and I for Jenee’s number. We both, separately, wrote back the playwright saying we “will not work with Jenee.” The playwright found another actor and kept J.A. and I.

Then, the Source also announced a “Volunteer Appreciation/Anniversary Party”, asking me to attend. In fact, the manager wrote a private email. I didn’t want to go if Jenee would be there. Suddenly, I thought, “she won’t be there again.”

My intuition, or something told me she had moved on — I felt it meant she had passed on. This is part of my gift which I don’t always enjoy. I will get the message when someone has passed on, just as I did when Debby Coleby passed. I tried a more positive thought . . . “No,” I thought, “Jenee just moved back to LA or Phoenix.”

The message returned to my intuition: Jenee Bandler has reunited with her brother.

I didn’t want to believe it.

Nevertheless, that night, or soon after, I was reading my facebook wall feed. I have Jenee blocked, but am friends or have a friend request pending with the infamous M.E. His status, which appears on my wall, read: My high school friend died in NY.

I knew it was Jenee, but, did try to push it out of my mind. Thinking it was another friend . . . then, the day of the party at the Source; which I agreed to go to, M.E.’s facebook status read: My high school girlfriend died. That was, indeed, Jenee.At the Source party, I had a friend check Jenee’s facebook [as she hadn’t blocked her]. The party was February 5th, 2011. Jenee, herself, last posted on January 14th. Then, 18 hours before we checked her facebook page, her uncle posted that he “was sorry to inform us, his niece passed away [yesterday] in her home.

I had known, truly known for about a week, of course. Now, confirmed, I was sort of mixed. I did truly wish she had just moved back to Phoenix or California, so I wouldn’t have to avoid her anymore. I didn’t want nor wish for her to die, of course. Yet, even a year or so ago, I knew it was coming. Her overall health didn’t seem to suggest she’d be with us very long.

I feel most for her parents. They have now buried both their children. A fate I would never wish on any parent, ever.As for me, I’m a little shocked in some ways. Relieved in another as Jenee Bandler seemed an unhappy person and missed Norman terribly. Now, she is at peace, and reunited with her beloved brother.

It is strange, though, to not have Jenee Bandler in the world. She was a force to be reckoned with, most of the time.

Soon after, and I’ll post it another time, I dreamt about her . . . and/or she visited me in a dream. She didn’t know she had died, and I had to tell her to go to the light and take Norm’s hand.

Next time, I talk about the full dream . . . though; and all those I’ve lost, and how they communicate with me before, during and after death.

Originally meant to post this in October . . .

Dori Hartley 2010

Since I didn’t, here is a wonderful compliment I received from Dori Hartley . . . whom many of us know from her infamy of being the first ‘Frank N. Furter’ when Rocky Horror Picture Show was becoming a cult classic back in the late 70s, early 80s in New York City — and in the United States.

If you pick up, or find a copy of a book called CREATURES OF THE NIGHT by Sal Piro, you will find her story and many others. Afterwards, if you find a copy of CREATURES OF THE NIGHT II by Sal Piro; well, you’ll find my photograph(s) and a little about me, the infamous, Curry’s Angel.

Of course, since I wasn’t the first or never became a regular ‘Frank N. Furter’ at the actual 8th Street Playhouse — my fame is fading some. Nevertheless, I’ve had some years of what I call Rocky Horror fame. As you read the article below, about me and my association with Rocky Horror and all that entails — you will see my wish was “to be the next Dori Hartley“. In many ways it came true and ran full circle.

Besides getting to meet Dori, a few times (at RHPS conventions); in the past few years, via facebook and the RHPS family we all formed, I am happy she calls me a friend. We are not the best of friends [in the sense of knowing each other extremely well], or have we ever chatted, in person, for hours, or on the phone (as friends would do) — nevertheless, we have exchanged private emails and via facebook and, I believe, if we do, or had opportunity to hang out or chat on the phone, it would be for hours! It would also be fun, informative and really interesting!

To Me From Dori

Yet, we are quite sympatico and deep inside, I know, we understand one another as much as two, very unique women of similar age can. We are, for lack of a better word, contemporaries. We’ve had some common experiences, both of us have strong opinions [on which we agree, and many we would not agree], yet, respect each other enough to live and let live on things of which we’d, no doubt, disagree.

Also, like Dori, I did meet Tim Curry, as was also my goal.

Here is her wonderful note to me [I vote it the best compliment of 2010, and perhaps of the whole decade, so far!]. If nothing else, as noted in her note, Dori gets me, even when she doesn’t!

Angela – You’re an original and I’m pretty sure you’ve taken your share of guff in your time.

I love your spirit and your independence. You’re as mad as a hatter and I have to let you know that I am YOUR fan – for your originality, your ability to stick with what YOU believe, and your ‘oh yeah? you think I care?’ attitude.

I totally respect you because you are uniquely you, all the time.

And Dori, I am your fan . . . for sure!

Now, my story:

The Story of “Curry’s Angel“

It Was Great When It All Began

Me: Age 16

A long, long time ago (1979) in a galaxy far, far away (Phoenix, Arizona) my journey into Rocky Horror began, and almost ended at the same time! Being the 16-year-old Christian child that I was, I expected a fun film where we teenagers, who enjoyed acting, were able to do so. What I found was underage teens emulating sexual behavior, cursing like truck-drivers and men dressing like women! I was afraid to go to the bathroom because my two escorts, two other teen girls and their mothers, told me “don’t go to the bathroom because there is only one!” At the time, not really realizing that most of the guys wouldn’t even care if they saw me (or any other women) naked – thoughts of rape and molestation ran through my mind. My moral, Christian upbringing was being shaken at the foundation. In the next month, having seen the film Footloose, no doubt; I talked about starting a petition against The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I didn’t try very hard, but I told a couple teachers that it was immoral and should be banned! Little did I know what would happen two short years later…

At the age of 18, my mind was opened up… a lot. I was finding my chosen faith of Born Again Christianity much too limiting. My beliefs left no place in God’s world for my Jewish friends, my homosexual friends and my friends raised without organized religion. So, I asked the same friend, Traci Dubow, who escorted me in 1979, if she’d be willing to re-initiate the new me into the R.H.P.S.

That fateful night I fell in… love (or is it lust) with, as I put it, “that man in the fishnets and corset” and wanted to be part of it all. I was obsessed, trying to find every book written on the film and on Tim Curry – and I found them everywhere! In that same year, I read Sal Piro’s Creatures of the Night and read about Dori Hartley. I told all my new Rocky Horror friends that “Angela Theresa Egic is going to be the next Dori Hartley of Rocky Horror!” This was also around the year I was officially titled “Curry’s Angel“.

Since I am an actress, my first cast in Arizona was pretty impressed with my virgin performance at Rocky Horror and invited me back for the next week to audition to be a permanent Janet. I did that and then the cast was fired! I took over and began a cast of volunteer audience members. We had no costumes and most of us were still new to the film, but we all acted and performed our hearts out. Admittedly I was getting them into shape and we were doing pretty well for our inexperience… then BOOM!! Some big guy showed up, with entourage in tow. He had been doing the R.H. circuit for several years and he took over. He made me the understudy Magenta, Janet and a real occasional Columbia. But he did let me in the show free for the next year as a cast member. His name was Max Medina and his wife who became the regular Janet, also named Angela. To keep confusion down I began signing our cast list as The Next Mrs. Curry. Max was constantly telling me I wasn’t a true R.H. fan, but a Tim Curry fan. One night, Max, frustrated at my endless “Curry lines” during the film, shouted at me.”Angela! Who do you think you are, Tim Curry’s angel or something?!!” (I’d like to note this was before angels became all the rage, too).I responded, “Yeah, Max, I am his angel! That’s why my mother named me Angela!!”Soon after two other cast members and I began our 70’s tribute as “Curry’s Angels” with us two Angela’s and our Columbia – I was Jaclyn Shit, then the other Angela, with the hair was Farrah Fucked Up and Kate Jackass. I kept the “Curry’s Angel” name, obviously. I was the biggest Tim Curry fan of our group!

From My Tim Curry Scrapbook

And that’s how I became Curry’s Angel in 1983 – which leads me back to my becoming the next Dori Hartley. The ways I most wanted to be like Dori was to become famous in the R.H. circuit and to actually know Tim Curry!! At this time I didn’t have the “balls” to consider even playing “Frank N. Furter” in a cast. I was pretty content with Janet and Magenta.Thus, the first thing I did on my road to R.H. fame was to write the fan club president, Sal Piro. I ordered a “Tim Curry Fearless shirt” and wrote him a note of how much I adore Tim Curry and the show. He wrote me back!! Little “Curry’s Angel” got a little from someone Dori Hartley was close friends with!!! Sal told me the medium t-shirt I ordered was gone and he only had a small one left… did I want it? I said “Yes” even though I like my shirts big.

The next few years many things happened.

Actual AADA ID

Most importantly, in 1984, I was accepted to The American Academy of Dramatic Arts (AADA)in New York City.

I arrived in NY on October 12, 1984, only two weeks after my 21st birthday. My goals: to go to 8th Street Playhouse, meet and become friends with Sal Piro, join the cast and meet Tim Curry and become friends with him too! This, or course, would make me quite famous in the R.H. community!

My first visit to the 8th Street Playhouse was rather interesting, a whole different crowd from the Phoenix group. Met Sal before the show and asked about being in the cast, he said he did need a female Magenta. Culture shock city for me! But I had yet to get together a full costume, and that was an 8th Street requirement. By the time I got things together Sal had a full cast and didn’t seem too interested in either knowing me or casting me. I was this annoying Tim Curry fan always sitting in the third row trying to out-scream the resident 8th Street cast Tim fanatic, Michelle Rehfeld.

2009_Sal, Michelle & I

I boasted to everyone there how I was going to know Tim Curry and he was going to know me. They all thought I was just another young, fly-by-night, Rocky Horror fan, never to be seen again. But this Girl from Arizona who called herself Curry’s Angel never went away! Eventually, I became a regular audience member of 8th Street, and as much as I annoyed a lot of the cast, I slowly began to fit it. They stopped calling me “the Girl from Arizona” and started to accept that I was indeed “Curry’s Angel“.

1997_Fearless T-Shirt

Later, living in Brooklyn… there was a theatre, The Marlboro, which showed R.H.P.S. on Saturday midnights only. I approached the manager of that theater and several of the 8th Street regulars and asked if we could be the resident cast of Brooklyn. The manager agreed and gave us a date that we could try it out. And as true and dedicated fans of the 8th Street cast, we still went into NYC on Friday nights, and for anniversaries. Our show was only on Saturday nights.

In the two or three years that the show was in Brooklyn, several of our cast members became 8th Street regulars. In fact, some of our originally Brooklyn cast are still involved with the fan club and the NYC Cast!

1987_Meeting The Man

To make a long story short (too late)… On August 28, 1987 at about 6:00 p.m., in New York City – I met Tim Curry! He [Tim Curry] was in rehearsal for the Broadway touring cast of Me and My Girl. I tracked him down through my friend who worked in “the Broadway Circuit” and met him…by myself, and I made quite an impression! It would take several more pages to explain what happened with me and Tim and why, to this day, he knows me by name and calls me his angel when we do see each other. The interesting part, Tim and I never discussed R.H.P.S. the whole 20 minutes we chatted during that first meeting. It just didn’t come up.

I retired a couple of weeks after the meeting. In 1992, I volunteered to use my years of RHPS experience to do a column, in a now defunct fanzine by Mad Man Mike called When Madness Takes Its Toll. When Mike decided to end his fanzine I started my own [now defunct]. I premiered it at the “1993 Mini-Con” in Washington, DC. I titled mine The Unconventional Conventionalists R.H. Newsletter.

RHPS 10th Anniversary

Since 1992, I’ve been in full retirement from the performing aspect of the RHPS. I’ve attended many RHPS conventions and seen Mr. Curry several more times through the years. In fact, I’ve met, sometimes hung out, with a lot of the original film cast of RHPS.

And Sal Piro has had me involved in some convention and a Halloween TV special on cable! I’ve also appeared as “Curry’s Angel” at the 10th Anniversary in NYC and the 15th Anniversary in Los Angeles.

2009_Jamie Donnelly & I

In 2008, via a friend in Hollywood, CA, I also had the pleasure of meeting the original “Trixie/Magenta” from the Broadway Roxy cast of Rocky Horror Show; the lovely Jamie Donnelly!

Currently, I live in New York doing stage acting and still pursuing a career as a Broadway actor/singer and writer. I am working on my first book about developing your psychic gifts; I also work as an Intuitive/Medium.

Comments also welcome here! Keep reading as I will have updates about my books, my intuitive work and my stage work.

﻿

Happy New Year!

Love, Light & Laughter,

Angela Theresa

November 2010

If you’d like a reading [Psychic] and you read this blog, I’ll give you a discount! Drop me a note at AngelAura28@yahoo.com and put “Blog Reader” in the subject line.

Day Ninety–Eight (98): Sunday, June 6th, 2010

98) How Jesus Demonstrated The Law of Attraction

When Law of Attraction teachers speak of the power of faith, trust, belief, vision, and declaration, they frequently cite Jesus. Three of the New Testament gospels–Matthew, Mark, and Luke–attribute to Jesus the comment that the kingdom of heaven is like the least of all seeds (the mustard seed) that planted grows into the greatest of all herbs, a tree with branches to shelter the birds. Likewise, great accomplishments start with intent and small actions. When you nurture the seeds of divinity within, the Law of Attraction makes possible an unfolding of your spiritual consciousness and brings to you or guides you to the means to help yourself and others.

Today, once again, the Universe showed me signs that I’m going in the right direction . . .

For the past few days, since I received and had a refresher course, from my new book and CD by Louise L. Hay, Experience Your Good Now.

The way Louise L. Hay teaches is with positive affirmations:

The rules are . . .

Positive in nature,

Stated in the now

Thus, I’ve been thinking, feeling and stating positive statements:

I love having my own apartment in Manhattan

I have $50,000.00 in one lump sum, and it feels fantastic!

I am trim and love treating my body well.

I have a wonderful loving husband, and beautiful children!

The 2nd one really was proven to me . . . and confirmed.

Went out to get some good food at Subway (the restaurant) and as I walked along 37th Street here in Jackson Heights, NY . . .thinking about own apartment and how $50,000.00 would allow me this freedom.

As I went into a deli, to get a drink (my cheat drink: Dr. Pepper) . . . I felt the urge (inspired action) to buy two lottery tickets. Whether this is the road to my $50,000.00 remains to be seen (Tuesday is the drawing). Anyway, here is the conversation with the clerk:

ME: Is today the Mega Millions day?

CLERK: No, not today . . . Tuesday.

ME: Right, but I can get tickets today?

CLERK: Yes.

ME: You have to be in it to win it! All my numbers are nearly the same. Of course, it only takes one correct ticket. I wouldn’t be sad about four or five numbers correct!

CLERK: Yes. There was a guy in Indiana or something . . . he bought $50,000.00 worth of tickets and didn’t win.

ME: Oh, the guy who won bought what . . . one ticket?

CLERK: About five dollars worth.

ME: Goes to show you!

Anyway, I found it uncanny and very synchronistic that he mentioned EXACTLY $50,000.00; which has been my affirmation.

Then, when I returned home. I decided to post here, on my blog, my Doreen Virtue ArchAngel Michael Oracle Card Readings plus three questions $20.00 special! As I finished posting it and publishing it, I was listening to http://www.hayhouseradio.com and guess who’s show came on at the exact moment it went up? Yes, Doreen Virtue!

She chose the card of the day . . . no, not ArchAngel Michael. Yet, the card: ArchAngel Jophiel seems to relate to prosperity and following instinct! Another sign from the angels and the Universe.

All day . . . wait, for a few weeks now . . . I have been thinking how I need to give up the tour guiding and work completely freelance; doing what I love. Thus, I’ve been getting inspired action thoughts and advice from friends, confirming and/or reminding me of the things I need to do to manifest these goals immediately.

This month, I’d like to pay for a Broadway class and book a vacation to Sedona, AZ with Mozz Mendez and my roommate, Michael Calderon.

Day Ninety–Seven (97): Saturday, June 5th, 2010

97) Christian Mystics Understood The Law

The Law of Attraction works in the pursuit of spiritual desire just as it does for worldly things. Christianity emphasizes total submission of one’s will to the will of God. Christian mystics have understood how the twin engines of faith and belief could merge the spiritual self into alignment and even unity with its Source. Some say that through divine grace they entered transcendental realms and moved closer to God.

Mystics of all religions have exhibited paranormal powers, gained knowledge and perceived truth through an inner knowing. That is not to say that all mystical experiences are pleasant. However, the understanding that mystics come away with from time spent in transcendental states have sometimes enabled them to manifest or create from spiritual desires (often to help others).

Today, my Daddy, Michael Egic, would’ve turned 97–years–old…

…he made it to 73-years-old, nevertheless. He died on February 4th, 1987. The same day as Liberace. My father died that morning, Liberace died that evening.

Get this…my father was born on June 5th, 1913 in McKeesport, Pennsylvania. At that time, it was almost all immigrant families from Yugoslavia. Daddy’s family was no exception. Grandpa, Petrov Egic and Grandma, Anna Svilokos Egic spoke little, if any, English. In fact, whatever port they arrived on in 1912 or early in 1913 (we think Grandma was pregnant with my father on the ship) — our last name was changed by the English-only speaking port authorities.

As far as I understand, our last name, was Egich. And from what I learned from Daddy, he was the first-born American; we were from Belgrade, Yugoslavia. There’s rumor that one of my grandparents may have been Croatian. And look, with some geneology, we may even be Russian Jews somewhere in the line.

Nevertheless, Grandpa and Grandma were Serbian Orthodox (Christian) as was my father. In fact, that’s how my father met my mother … at the Serbian Hall in Phoenix, AZ in 1962.

My father was the first, as stated, of eventually eight (8) children: Peter (a real-life gold prospector), Samuel (yes, I had an Uncle Sam), Nick (ended up an NYC businessman), Violet, Mary (adored her, most of all), George (everyone’s favorite) and the youngest, Angelina (changed her name, though — to Dorothy).

I really didn’t get to know many of them well . . .with the exception of Peter, Mary and Violet. I barely met Nick and as a child, I spent some time with Dorothy, Sam and George (mostly on vacations).

In fact, Uncle Pete was the first death I experienced at a conscious level. I was only 7-years-old. Uncle Pete lived in the very rural, desert area of Wickenburg, AZ in a shack. My cousin, Vincent (we were raised together from 1965-1973), and I loved Uncle Pete. In his shack, I may have developed my phobia of old and dirty bathrooms — but, he had all sorts of animals; living animals in cages — rabbits, snakes, prairie dogs, etc. He generally let them free after a while. But, he collected them to show to Vince and I. We loved it.

Uncle Pete, on his gold-prospecting trips into the deep desert of Arizona, he also brought back lots of different rocks, stone, minerals, etc. including our favorite “fool’s gold” and some parts of Arizona’s famous “painted desert”. The stones turn colors due to pieces of crystal-like covers on them. All natural! Every now and again, Uncle Pete found real gold. Somewhere, all of us were given an ounce of real gold by my uncle. Still, I think in the 1970s one of my foster sisters stole it when she ran away.

In 1971 or 1972, Uncle Pete went prospecting, as he often did. On his trips, Pete would check in with his closest neighbor and tell him how long he’d be gone and to watch his shack. About two weeks after this trip, my father received a call from the neighbor saying that Uncle Pete was overdue by one whole week.

All I remember is both my parents being very upset that the neighbors waited so long to call them — and that, considering it was the desert, Uncle Pete was gone. Nevertheless, my family and I drove the two hours or so to Wickenburg — to an area Uncle Pete frequented on his trips — and Daddy and some area residents went on a search party for him.

I wanted very much to with Daddy. I felt I could find Pete, because, even then, I had this psychic connection to people. In fact, I remember telling Daddy I knew where Pete was waiting. Of course, not sure I understood he was dead. Dad wouldn’t let me go as I was only a small child. Mom, Vince and I sat in the car — with lots of water and drinks — while Dad went out walking.

Vince and I did love playing out in the desert — throwing rocks at the Jumping Chola Cactuses. Jumping Chola’s are fun — they will actually jump at you, if you come too close — and insert the needles under your skin like a fishhook. Painful as hell. If you throw rocks at them, you can hear the needles trying to lodge into the stone! It’s like a Venus Fly Trap! Vince and I thought that was so much fun.

And you know, we both had our share of needles in our arms, etc. Mom would have to pull them out as we screamed and cried.

Dad came back, not too long, really, with tears in his eyes. I remember this because it was the first time I saw Daddy cry. They found him, only about a mile from the nearest ranch. Apparently, Uncle Pete left his van (mistake #1) and tried to make his way to this ranch he knew about. Pete had forgotten his water (mistake #2). As Uncle Pete walked in the right direction — he must’ve grown tired and decided to sit underneath a tree (mistake #3) for a minute. He died of exposure.

As I listed those mistakes, let me tell you why. When you grow up in Arizona, in school, they teach us desert survival. Desert survival comes with rules — 1) If you are with your vehicle: NEVER LEAVE YOUR VEHICLE. It’s easier for rescue to find a car than a person, in the desert. 2) NEVER FORGET WATER (brings jugs and jugs for you and jugs and jugs for your car) and 3) Once you are walking — NEVER STOP UNTIL YOU FIND WATER and/or PEOPLE.

Uncle Pete knew all these rules too well. Why he forgot his water or why he left his vehicle, we’ll never know. Or even why he stopped only a mile from his destination.

A short while later, I attended my first funeral. A Serbian Orthodox funeral in the middle of a desert cemetary in Wickenburg, AZ. Uncle Pete loved the desert. I remember kissing the cross on the casket (closed) and feeling like Uncle Pete was watching us and told him “I’ll see you later.” My father was devastated. My father inherited Uncle Pete’s purple heart from World War II. Today, I have that purple heart and it’s very dear to me.

After that, I was closer to my Daddy than ever. I wanted him to never hurt again and I wished Uncle Pete would come back. We also inherited his panel van. My Dad put our little rocking chair in the back of it and Vince and I loved riding in them. We’d flip the rocking chairs on purpose while on the road.

As I think back to the 1970s, when that was illegal and there were no laws about child seats, etc. — it’s amazing we never were injured in that van! LOL! This is also before safety equipment was used while riding our bikes or roller skating on the cement. I have plenty of scars to show how dangerous our world was then . . . and lived to talk about it, as you can see!

As the years went by, I tried to learn more about my father. He married my mother when he was already 49-years-old and only knew her a year or so. Thus, he had some sort of life for 47 years before Mom and me and Vince.

My father never really went to school — yet, he could read and he loved to write and take pictures. Daddy was an avid photographer and I still have camera’s of his dating back to the 1920s! By the time Daddy was 12 or so years old, in McKeesport, PA, he went to work in the coal mines with his father. The family was poor and my father may have attended a school for a short while. He never could remember if he did or not.

Daddy had severe asthma or developed it in the coal mines. At some point, probably before he was even 18 and having no diploma, he was still able to join the Army. In those days it didn’t require any formal education. By the time he joined the Army, maybe he was 16 or 17-years-old, he could read and write. He served during peace time and had his honorable discharge.

In this interim, he attended Air Conditioning School. Then, a doctor told him, if he didn’t leave Pennsylvania, his asthma and the air would kill him ten to twenty years early. My father was told he had to move to Death Valley, California or Phoenix, AZ. This was probably in the 1940s.

I have a picture here, of my father with a radio microphone in his hand. This may be from the Army days or the 1930s. But, he once told me, he worked at a radio station. I think it was in Pennsylvania.

My grandfather died young (heart attack or black lung from the coal mines?), in Pennsylvania, maybe in his 40s. So, after that, my father had to support his mother and the seven remaining children.

Somewhere in there, Daddy moved to Phoenix, AZ and applied for and was hired by the United States Post Office. A job he would hold from 1940-something until 1985. He was hired as a Letter Carrier, a job he loved and kept him going his whole life, really.

In Phoenix, and remember he never had a high school education or diploma; he was smart enough to land a job with the postal service. He once told me he probably learned to read at the coal mine or someone taught him somewhere along the line. My father loved words, reading and writing. He kept journals for years, which Mom and I have in storage in Florida.

Late in the 1940s, my father met a woman named Jeannie. She was a divorced woman with two children. She was American Indian. My father went to a place for Army veteran’s, called “The American Cantina” — but she had TB (tuberculosis) when it was still incurable. Jeannie was placed in an asylum, as they were in those days, to die. What we would call a hospice, now. Although, these asylum’s were quarantined and no visitors that were healthy could get close w/touching or kissing — TB is much too contagious.

Somehow, my father married Jeannie. Jeannie died eight months later in the asylum. My mother and I do not believe there was any way for that marriage to have been consummated in the time they knew one another. Of course, there’s no way to know previous to Jeannie’s illness. Sex was not spoken up in those days.

In the storage, of my father’s life, there were dozens of letters that my father wrote to Jeannie while she was in the asylum. At some point, I think my mother threw most of them away — but there’s a couple that were saved.

In fact, a year after my parents married, my mother discovered that every year, since Jeannie’s death — my father placed an ad in the Phoenix Gazette saying “We miss you, Jeannie.” My mother made him stop when she found out.

Mom and Dad met at the Serbian Hall. My mother had gone from the Roman Catholic Church to Serbian Hall because they would let her sing solo. She had to learn how to sing in Serbian by sounding out the words, though! She did well! Daddy was the only single guy left, so she kept putting herself in the front seat when Dad drove all the single ladies home.

According to Mom, Dad was not a romantic or very smooth. In fact, she really set everything up. The way he proposed was interesting . . . not necessarily romantic. Mom and Dad had been doing the “driving home from choir” thing and had dinners. She said Dad would drive her to her apartment and on occasion tried to get together with her — but Mom, at the time in her late 20s, wanted to wait until marriage for that and would stop Dad’s advances. He respected her (he would often say that as the years went by — that he respected my mother) and didn’t try again.

One day, they were walking in downtown Phoenix and were walking by a jewelry store. Not sure, but Mom may have stopped to admire the engagement rings or look at something. Anyway, while looking in the window with Dad, he said, “Which one do you want?”

That was his proposal.

They were married on October 13, 1962 in the Catholic Church (St. Mary’s, I think) in downtown Phoenix. Dad was 49-years-old, which Mom did not discover until they were filling out their marriage license! She had never asked his age . . . Mom was 30-years-old and would be 31-years-old on December 23rd of that year.

For years and years Mom told me she was 29-years-old, but her math was off — because she was born on December 23, 1931; thus, she was already 30-years-old in October 1962.

I was born 11 months later, on September 28th, 1963. My father was 50-years-old and I would be his first and only child.

Today, I honor him by saying “Happy Birthday, Daddy“. And I wonder what he would be like if he had made it here to his 97th birthday.

On another note — Today, in email, I heard from my cousin, Clara Collins. . .

A few years ago, Clara lost all four of her children to foster care. It’s a long messy story. Anyway, her two oldest were adopted out by the state of Arizona. She contacted me and said she found those children on the internet and send me updated photographs.

Her oldest child, Sadie and her 2nd child, Tyson. I have a photograph of Tyson and my mother together from when Clara still had him.

Day Ninety–Five (95): Thursday, June 3rd, 2010

95) Intent Can Bring About Radical Transformation

Alchemy blurs the lines between science and philosophy, between the magical and the spiritual. But always, in the end, alchemy is about change/transformation. When a person desires to undertake personal growth work, he or she in some ways joins the ranks of ancient practitioners of magic or spiritual shamanism, for that person holds a deep desire to evolve and attempts to manifest the result through desire, intent, and action. Such transformation can bring a sea change in his or her relationships with others, for as psychologists point out: it only takes one person to shift a paradigm. In relationships, that means when the individual changes, everyone around that person necessarily has to change too.

It was too hotafter all day on the tour bus and then theatre hours. I asked to leave early from the theatre, just too damn hot.

I grew up “hot” . . . in Phoenix, AZ which we lovingly refer to as ‘Hell‘!

Just wanted to get this off my chest. Actually, I could use a few inches off my chest–but breast reduction is another story.

When I moved to New York — the girl from Arizona; where, on a good day, we reach 120 degrees; I ran across the infamous “but it’s a dry heat” excuse.

Do you who are not educated in the ways of our people … those who are hot and bothered most of their lives in places like Phoenix (Hell), Arizona or worse — Yuma, AZ. This is EXACTLY, no exaggeration, what DRY HEAT feels like.

And just like you feel, crammed up inside an oven, burning up, cooking your own internal organs and cooking yourself to burning — that’s what dry heat of 120 degrees feels like if you breathe, walk or exert yourself in any way, whatsoever.

In Arizona schools, grade school, we learn desert survival and what to do for heat stroke! And kids constantly get heat stroke. They go out to play, in the 120 degree heat, and pass out and sometimes, die. As do elderly people. In fact, statistically, about 5 tourists a year lose their life in Arizona due to heat stroke! Generally, elderly people; still, 5 too many.

Yes, here on the East Coast, the humidity feels crappy . . . but, generally, you won’t drop dead on the street. Your body is like 80 or 90% water and where there’s humidity you are hydrated, to some degree … where there is dry heat, your 80 or 90% of you dries up and you croak!

In Arizona, we had daily heat alerts, too. And our malls are open late, so you don’t have to go out in the sun. The swimming pools, if you get in them at midnight, are like bathtubs! You don’t need to heat your pools in Arizona, that’s for sure.

Day Seventy-Seven (77): Sunday, May 16th, 2010

77) Babylonians Used The Law of Attraction

A Babylonian named Hammurabi (1792-1750 B.C.) deeply desired to unify the scattered cities of Babylon into some kind of cohesive empire. He formulated a group of laws that came to be known as the Hammurabi Code. The Code contains two hundred and eighty-two laws that were forerunners to tort law. Hammurabi’s system was fair and clearly articulated and most importantly, made possible the manifestation of his deepest desire, the unification of Babylonia. With his dream actualized, Hammurabi led the ancient Babylonians into a positive and productive period that scholars refer to as Babylon’s golden age. Some Law of Attraction teachers say the ancient Babylonians understood the law, and their collective consciousness set up positive vibration for good things to come to them.

From her book: 365 Ways To Live The Law of Attraction

Since the details of this actual day have eluded me . . . because I didn’t keep track. I’ll tell you about my history of living the Law of Attraction.

It began long before I was aware of the term “law of attraction” — perhaps before many were aware of the term?! It certainly has become more commonly used since the release of The Secret.

My first real note of this “magical” idea of making your dreams come true with techniques, came into my conscious mind as early as two or three-years-old.

I remember, quite vividly, having dreams of items I wanted or a cousin I wanted to visit me. In the dream, I recall thinking “I know I’m dreaming; but, if I hold on tight enough to this item or person; I can make it or him/her appear in my awake life.

Did it work? Well, it did! I really do remember dreaming of a toy called SEE AND SAY, where you spin the little dial to an animal, i.e. a cow…when you let go, it made the sound of a cow. I adored that toy and didn’t have one at the time (I was about 2-years-old). That Christmas, or soon after the dream, I received the toy!

I also recall, a little later . . . around the age of 8 or 9-years-old, still holding the belief: I dreamt of visiting one of my favorite cousins, in Florida. In the dream, I grabbed her wrist and told her to hold on to my wrist, too. And when I woke up, it would happen in real life. Now, this wasn’tinstant gratification. Nevertheless, it had been a couple of years since my family took vacation. That summer, without me talking about my dream; Dad, Mom, Vince and I went across country (from Arizona) to Florida. And there was my cousin, lots of them, actually! Still, the one I most wanted to see.

My next recollection of purposely aiming to “create my own reality” was in my teens. I read a book called CyberCybernetics. Which, I have come to learn, only about ten or fifteen years ago, is from the Scientologists (!). Nonetheless, I read the book for learning and not to join any group. I was 15-years-old.

The book spoke about imagining what you want . . . just imagining it, even if you’ve never done it before. I applied this “magic” idea to my high school choir. I was considered a good singer, but quiet. And I never got any solo’s because I didn’t sing loud enough and my voice was considered thin. So, I imagined I had this big voice like my mother or Andrea McArdle (who had starred on Broadway as “Annie”). I imagined everyone complimenting me and loving my ‘new’ voice, with its richness and my talent.

A couple of months later, as I imagined this and still sang in our choir. Mr. Washburn, our choir director, was looking for another soloist, for a verse in a song (or something). He would audition us, right there in class. I sang out, as I had imagined. Not like Andrea McArdle (my voice is still lighter than her, or was, for years); but stronger and louder than usual, for me.

That year, at the choir awards ceremony, I won a great award: MOST IMPROVED SINGER!

This started my curiosity of all things that were, to me, magical and started utilizing every from imagination to telepathy and other esoteric ideas. Eventually leading me to books such as: Creative Visualization by Shakti Gawain and Your Erroneous Zones by Dr. Wayne Dyer.

Little did I know then, how this would span out the rest of my life and lead to the Law of Attraction and manifesting many of my dreams, dreamt early on.

Between the ages of 8 to 10, at our church, West Congregational Church, we had the “offering” envelopes. The flap made the back of them look like a stage. I used to draw a stage and a sketch of myself performing (acting/singing) on those stages. Now, here I am some thirty-something years later; living my life and since my childhood have been acting on stages across the country!

Many of my early dreams have come true. Those I only imagined, at first.

There are times, like everyone else, I feel like I’m not successful. Yet, when I re-visit my early years; I realize many of my long-held and strongest dreams have come true.

There are few, which may or may not actualize . . . marriage, children or owning a house. Yet, I trust the Universe knows what I really want or need. I do know, I always wanted to act and sing on stage; more than anything.

I met my favorite actor and even got to know him a little. That was another very strong dream.

Soon, I will write about how all those dreams came true, too. My road to living the law of attraction.